


The Drunk Encounter That Started It

by androgynousclintbarton, heartinhand221 (Illusinia)



Series: Love Is Not Necessarily a 2 Dimentional Affair [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 05:14:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11306409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousclintbarton/pseuds/androgynousclintbarton, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illusinia/pseuds/heartinhand221
Summary: Spock cannot understand the purpose of Valentine's day. Nor can he understand why his head feels fuzzy. He doesn't mind the beautiful woman who started talking to him in the bar though.





	The Drunk Encounter That Started It

**Author's Note:**

> I feel the need to apologize. I am really terrible at writing sex.

Everything was too loud.

As Spock stood against the back wall, observing the questionable actions of his son to be former shipmates, he wondered precisely why humans insisted on surrounding themselves in sound levels almost guaranteed to damage their hearing. Coupled with their tendency to consume chemicals also used in the preservation of scientific specimens, he was a bit surprised they were capable of serving aboard a ship at all. As it was, he had found the one point furthest from the music possible. He would have left already if his shipmates hadn't proceeded to abandon their property into his care.

“Spock!” Lieutenant D'avis nearly tripped over his own feet as he approached the table, though he somehow managed to keep from sloshing either drink in his blue hands. The Andorian grinned as he offered one of the beverages to Spock. Offered in the form of thrusting the glass out to Spock and forcing him to take it before it crashed to the ground. “Here, I got you something. This is your celebration, you shouldn't be moping against the wall.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant and glanced wearily at the glass' contents. “What is it, precisely?”

“House drink,” replied D’avis with a grin. “The bartender says it's a favorite among the locals. You’re always saying Vulcans aren’t affected by alcohol so it won’t hurt you to try it.”

“That is hardly a logical reason to consume it,” remarked Spock as he sniffed at the drink. It was warm in his hand, which made it somewhat more pleasant than most alcoholic drinks that were served at an abominably cold temperature.

D’avis just rolled his eyes, his antennae twitching in a way that further highlighted his annoyance. “I thought Vulcans embraced that thing that basically means everything is the same everywhere and that makes it valuable.”

Spock’s lips thinned a little. “Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combination is meant to highlight the value of the differences in varying living beings and how such differences can come together in many ways to create harmony our universe.”

“So, value this human cultural tradition and drink up,” countered D’avis, turning as a shout from the group drew his attention back to their other shipmates.

Before Spock could object or attempt to get D’avis to stay so that he could make his exit, the Andorian was already moving away and calling out to their associates, leaving Spock once more stranded once more. Repressing his irritation, Spock glanced down at the drink in his hands. It was brown in color and smelled faintly sweet. There was the notable scent of alcohol beneath the sweeter scents, though. Still, he was stuck there with nothing to do. And alcohol did not affect him, so there was no harm in consuming the beverage.

Taking a sip, he noted the strong undertone he recognized as coffee and the sweet taste of whipped cream. He had to admit, the combination was quite appealing. Even the burn of the alcohol was tempered somehow by a smooth, rich flavor Spock found he quite enjoyed.

Resigning himself to lingering at the bar for the moment, Spock settled into one of the chairs around the table to await his moment of escape.

\------------------ 

Something was wrong.

Spock squinted slightly in an attempt to force his vision to clear. The room itself appeared to be somewhat unfocused and he could not rectify the issue. Furthermore, he noted that his head felt slightly lighter than normal, though he could not ascertain why that would be. There was no biological function he was aware of that could cause such a thing.

His eyes dropped accusingly to the two empty glasses that sat before him. A waitress had brought the second drink to him around the time he had finished the first and, though he did not want the drink, she had refused to return it to the bar and promptly walked away. Faced with his normal Vulcan dislike for waste, he had consumed the second beverage as well. He suspected an unknown ingredient in the aforementioned drink was likely responsible for his current situation.

“Glaring at those glasses won’t do you any good,” remarked a rich female voice, the faintest hint of what he thought might be amusement tinging her words. He could be wrong though, he was pretty sure he was intoxicated at this point.

Lifting his head, he blinked slowly at the tall, dark-skinned woman who was currently standing beside him. Her lips were faintly tilted up, eyes locked on his in clear curiosity. He could see two glasses in her hands, one of which appeared to be another of the ‘house specials’ while the other looked clear. He would have assumed it was water, except he’d found it impossible to ascertain a liquid simply based upon its physical properties. Vodka had an astonishingly similar appearance to water.

Apparently she noticed his eyes lingering on the drinks, because she set the glass of clear liquid on the table in front of him. “I thought you might require some water. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but the house drink contains chocolate tonight- both chocolate liquor and chocolate-infused whiskey.”

Chocolate. That explained his intoxication. His rather strong intoxication.

The woman pulled out a seat beside him, settling in with her own drink. It gave Spock a moment to look her over.

Dark hair fell free about halfway down her back, tumbling over her shoulders when she turned her head upon her long, slender neck. The sway of the strands drew his eyes downward over her long, fit figure and strong legs. A flutter in the corner of his eyes pulled his attention to her slender hands, long fingers curling over her drink delicately.

She is beautiful, supplied his mind, even as he blinked hard to regain his focus.

“I’ve never met a Vulcan who willingly got drunk,” remarked the woman with a twitch of her lips. He was momentarily distracted again by the way they curled over her words. “I didn’t think your culture encouraged the consumption of intoxicating substances.”

“It does not,” replied Spock absently, his mind wondering what it would feel like to kiss her the human way. “I was unaware the drink contained chocolate. I would not have consumed it otherwise.”

“Mmm,” hummed the woman lightly as she took a sip from her own mug. “Well, a warning for the future, pretty much everything alcoholic served in bars contains chocolate on Valentine’s Day.”

Spock’s brow furrowed further. It was Valentine’s Day? He had vague memories of the day from his time as a cadet, though he had mostly ignored the superficial holiday. It did explain his shipmate’s insistence on patronizing a bar, though. “Is that your intention in patronizing this establishment? The seeking of a partner to celebrate with?”

One of the woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Was that a pick-up line or have I had too much to drink?”

Spock blinked, furrowing his brow. “I can not attest to the second, for I have only just met you. But I can assure you that the first is false.” He paused then, reconsidering his words before adding: “Or, at least it was not my intention.”

The woman laughed, shaking her head a bit. “And people say Vulcans have no sense of humor.”

“That is an incorrect assessment,” agreed Spock, nodding as he considered the number of times he'd heard his own father make dry remarks his mother found amusing. He was still unclear if this was his father's intention or not. “My mother has informed my father and I on many occasions that we possess a ‘dry’ humor.”

“That's about how I'd define it,” agreed the woman with a slow curl of her lips. “Though I did only just meet you, so I can't attest to this.”

Blinking, it took Spock a moment to realize she's thrown his own phrasing back at him. Curious. His mind replayed their conversation thus far and he realized she had yet to specify her reasons for patronizing the establishment. “I do not believe you answered my inquiry concerning your reason for being present in this establishment.”

She laughed, taking another sip of her drink and holding a hand out to him. “Well, maybe that's because my reasons are changing.”

Spock cocked an eyebrow, staring at her extended hand. It was almost as if she had reached out to touch him but stopped halfway. Normally he did not like to touch people. As a touch telepath, he found physical contact with others disquieting. It was unpleasant and ran the risk of violating their privacy. But as he watch this woman's hand hover between them, he found himself desiring that contact. Still though, she did not move to touch him further, just left her hand hanging between them.

“I know Vulcans are touch telepaths and not to touch them without permission,” explained the woman with a faint smile.

He nodded slowly, staring at her hand once more. She was leaving the matter to him and he found he wasn't opposed to the idea of physical contact with her. Beyond the fact she was beautiful, the conversation indicated at least a moderate level of intelligence and a basic understanding of Vulcan culture. Though they hadn't discussed anything of true import, he found the conversation far more entertaining than any other he had participated in while at a bar before. Curious, he raised his own hand to touch her fingers slightly. The fuzzy hum of her thoughts passed against his mind, circling around several topics. The volume of the room hurt her ears slightly, causing minor discomfort. He realized then that he hadn't needed to raise his voice to speak with her once thus far; clearly her hearing was quite sensitive. Her drink was warm, combating what she found to be a less than pleasant cold. Apparently, she was no more suited to the damp San Francisco environment than he was. 

However, her most prominent thoughts appeared to be of him. His ears fascinated her and she wanted to touch the tips to see if they were stiff or soft. He could not quite understand what that meant, but apparently it was a thought she kept returning to. She also had a desire to hear him speak Vulcan, a language she was apparently familiar with. That was a surprise; few humans learned to speak Vulcan as most Vulcans found it more logical to learn Standard at a young age. His facial structure apparently intrigued her as well. Imagined images of tracing his brow with her fingers flitted in and out of her thoughts.

“Having fun?” asked the woman with a faint smile, her lips tilting up as she watched him.

Spock blinked hard, his mind focusing on the woman in front if him again. She didn't look perturbed though. To the contrary, she appeared perfectly at ease. Fascinating.

“I'm not sure I'd be so at ease if I hadn't been drinking,” she remarked, still smiling as she shifted her fingers to curl around his. A jolt of desire slipped from where their fingers were intertwined to his groin. “Is this okay to do?”

“Our current activities amount to what humans call ‘making out’,” informed Spock as her fingers began to slide over his.

She raised an eyebrow at him, though her eyes showed deep intrigue. “Really? Wow, that's a lot less messy than the human equivalent and a lot less disgusting in terms of public acts.”

If possible, his eyebrows rose to his hairline. He had never heard a human react so positively to the idea of the ozh'esta, which their contact by now had definitely become. Most humans seemed far more inclined toward the human tradition of kissing, as he'd learned from several incidents involving drunken females.

“I still like the human tradition of kissing,” remarked the woman with a grin, leaning forward a little to bring her lips near his ear. “I just think this is far more comfortable in a public place.”

Spock found his mind immediately turning to the idea of kissing her in the human tradition. The idea further fueled the desire he was already experiencing to his great surprise. Typically he was uninterested in pursuing physical relations with human women he was not well acquainted with, but he found his curiosity and interest in this particular woman invoking that desire. A woman whose name he didn't even know.

“I have just become aware of the fact that I am uncertain as to your name,” remarked Spock, his mind questioning how intoxicated he must be to have not noticed this fact sooner.

The woman grinned, her fingers running up and down his slowly. “My friends like to call me ‘Ny’.”

“Is that a shortened version of your full name?” inquired Spock, allowing the name to float around his mind.

She nodded with a grin, then shot him an expectant look. He realizes rather belatedly  
that he had not provided his own name. “I am Spock.”

“Spohk,” she repeated, using the appropriate Vulcan pronunciation to his complete surprise. 

His desire flared and before he could stop himself, he spoke the first words on his mind. “I find I desire you physically.”

Ny laughed faintly, downing the rest of her drink and standing with their fingers still intertwined. “I share that sentiment. Do you want to get out of here and act on it?”

Spock stared at their joined hands for a moment, considering her proposal. He felt sexual desire for this human, a rare occurrence for him. He wanted to explore it. More than that, he wanted to explore her, a woman who was unphased by his cultural differences and respectful of his cultural taboos. She did not fear his telepathy and she was inclined to allow him to touch her first.

Standing unsteadily, he stepped closer to her than he normally would any human. His fingers caressed hers slowly, suggestively, drawing her closer to him though there was still space between them. “I am amenable.”

Ny grinned in response, leaning up so her lips hovered near his ear. “Great, your place or mine?”

\-------------------

Ny rocked her hips as she walked, humming some Terran song that Spock couldn’t recognize. He could not argue with the view though, his eyes following the exaggerated sway as they headed towards his assigned rooms. The rhythmic motion was nearly hypnotizing and he found his mind imagining what it would feel like to have those hips swaying against his own. Though he did not dance, he was tempted to try it as he watched her. Preferably with this woman. He had seen terran dancing before and, though it was vulgar as a public act, he would not oppose to the idea in private.

“You paying attention back there Spohk?” asked Ny, her voice somewhat teasing as she glanced at him over her shoulder. The look made his blood burn.

“Yes,” stated Spock, his voice more of a growl than actual words. “I am, as humans would say, simply enjoying the view.”

She laughed at that, spinning around so she was walking backwards albeit unsteadily. Her smile was what Spock suspected would be defined as ‘deviant’. The glint in her eyes was equally so. “Mmm, so you get to enjoy the view while we head for your apartment?”

“You have chosen to walk ahead,” reminded Spock placidly, as he followed the continued sway of her hips.

Ny chuckled and nodded, spinning back around once more. “True. Where is your apartment again?”

“I am staying in temporary housing at the edge of the campus at present,” replied Spock, gesturing loosely towards a building on the campus’ edge. At least he hoped it was the correct building. It was quite a ways ahead still and his vision was swimming rather sharply.

Smiling slightly, Ny nodded and laced her fingers through his again as she fell back to walk beside him. “At least it wasn’t far.”

“Indeed,” agreed Spock, his throat tightening as she moved close enough that he could smell her rich scent- some complex mix of a soft flower, the sweet scent of whatever they had been drinking, and something he suspected was specific to her. It was intoxicating in and of itself. He felt his nose flare at the thought of burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling that scent.

Beside him, Ny shivered and shot him a look that easily conveyed her sexual desire for him. “Careful with those thoughts, Spohk. There’s a lot of alleys between here and your quarters that I could drag you into.”

“I believe the wait will prove worthwhile,” murmured Spock, as he used their fingers to tug her closer and offered her another image of him pinning her to the wall and kissing her in the human style.

Ny let out a breathy laugh. “If your mind is any indication, it definitely will be.” Her arousal sparked again and Spock had to resist picking her up and carrying her to his quarters. It was sounding like a better and better idea by the second.

It felt far too long until they reached the turbolift inside Starfleet’s temporary quarters. Once inside, he didn't waste any time pinning her against the wall and kissing her. She didn't resist either. Her fingers wound their way into his hair, tugging at it slightly before shifting to stroke his ears. He growled in response, his hips grinding against hers as his limited control slipped further.

One of his hands sought out hers, twisting their fingers together in a clumsy Vulcan kiss even as he kissed her the human way. His other hand made its way into her hair, tangling in the thick black tresses. He tugged lightly on her hair, a gesture he'd seen other human males display to the apparent delight of their partners. Ny did not appear any different. She moaned as he tugged at the strands, parting her lips and slipping her tongue against his. It was alien to him, but sexually arousing all the same. A Vulcan woman would not react this way nor would she allow a man to touch her this way. Vulcan males bowed to the wishes of their females, and with good reason. 

Human women were far less demanding, it seemed.

“Spohk,” moaned Ny against his lips, causing him to pull back slightly so she could speak. It was hard when she moaned his name as she had, but he managed all the same. “We should get to your quarters.”

It was then he realized the lift had stopped moving. A glance at the doors confirmed they were open, as well.

Ny tugged on his arm gently, slipping around him and into the hallway. He followed silently, though she stopped before entering the hall and looked at him expectantly. Right, she did not know which door was his.

Stepping forward a little unsteadily, Spock took her hand and pulled her towards his assigned quarters. Her fingers were slender and small in his, a reminder that she was far smaller than him and significantly more delicate. He needed to try to keep that in his hazy mind. Otherwise she might get hurt.

They reached the door a moment later and Spock quickly keyed open the door. His speed was aided by the slide of Ny’s fingers against his as well as the brush of her thoughts which currently featured him holding her down on the bed as he thrust into her. His fingers almost slipped on the keys in his haste.

As soon as the door was open, he tugged her inside and straight into his chest, his lips finding hers again as she twisted their fingers together in a way that had Spock pressing her to the wall. She had picked up on that little trick quickly, far more so than most human females. However, he knew if she kept doing that, he would not last as he wished to.

She had expressed an interest in him restraining her…

Grasping both her hands, he lifted them above her head and pressed them gently into the wall. He found that both easily fit within one of his hands. Again, that reminder that she was far more delicate than he was slipped through his mind. He would need to be cautious.

Holding her hands gently but firmly in one hand, he let the other trail down her side and back up while he buried his face in against her throat and inhaled her scent. Another bolt of arousal hit him as she moaned and arched against him, her hips rising against his in a slow twist. He shuddered in response, pinning her hips to the wall with his.

“It is the place of a Vulcan male to please the female,” murmured Spock, his free hand stroking over her breast lightly. He switched to Vulcan then, curious to see if she would understand his words. “Will you allow this one to please you?”

“Yes,” replied Ny in Vulcan, her voice shaking slightly.

He nearly came apart himself in that moment. He had never thought hearing a human speak Vulcan could have that impact on him. The words of his native language rolled off her tongue so easily though, he found himself wondering if she had received tutoring from a Vulcan herself. 

A list of words he could teach her that he was certain she didn't know also ran through his head, none of which were known off Vulcan. And the most efficient means of teaching was through example and hands-on experience….

Ny’s leg suddenly was around his waist, dragging his hips closer and lifting her head so her lips were near his ear. “This one would appreciate your tutoring, but this one already knows many of those words. Would you care to test this one's knowledge?”

Spock felt a growl rumble through his chest as he ground his hips harder against hers. He would definitely enjoy testing her knowledge, but he knew he wouldn't last if he did. Maybe he would later, if she was still inclined. As he had never taken a woman he had met in a bar to his quarters, he was unsure what the protocol in these situations was. He did hope she would remain after, though. Her mind fascinated him and her voice was lyrical. He would gladly welcome her company tomorrow when his mind was clear. 

Her hips swivelled against his at the same moment her teeth gently caught the lobe of his ear, making him shiver and press her harder into the wall. “Ny, I must insist you cease these actions if you wish for our activities to continue.”

“Is that so?” she inquired, switching to Vulcan. “This one is certainly not ready to stop.”

“Than you should cease,” growled Spock, appreciating the shiver that slid through her body and the moan that escaped her lips. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pinning her flat against his body and ensured her wrists were both captured in one of his hands before he kissed her again.

Ny wiggled against him as they kissed, humming as she tried to grind their hips together. However, his arm kept her pinned to his body instead, restricting her motions. He would not allow himself to come before he had the chance to ensure her pleasure.

“Will you allow this one to pleasure you as is the duty of a Vulcan male?” asked Spock, his lips only lifting far enough from hers to get the words out. “This one wishes to touch you in many ways before this one finds pleasure.”

Groaning, Ny kissed him hard again, ceasing her squirming. With a smirk, Spock scooped her up into his arms and crossed the room to the bed. He lay her down gently, sliding up so he hovered over her with his arms braced on the mattress. His lips found hers again in a slow, soft kiss, their lips brushing intermittently as they began to connect slowly again.

Spock managed to shift so one of his hands slid down her side, catching the edge of the dress she wore and pushing it up her body. His fingers slipped over smooth skin and firm muscle as they went, his cock hardening as he imagined those strong legs wrapped around him. 

Her legs spread wider the further up his fingers slid, until he reached the space at the apex of her thighs. The scent of her arousal hit him as she completely spread her legs and he nearly growled. When his fingers touched the soft, wet cotton of her underwear, he felt the deep rumble in his chest.

She moaned in response, her hips jerking upwards against his fingers as they slipped over her underwear. He slowly slid his fingers back and forth, applying a little more pressure with each pass. And with each press, she squirmed more and more against his fingers. Moisture saturated the cloth, the scent of her arousal increasing. He growled a little, leaning forward impulsively and dragging his tongue over her underwear. She gasped in response, her hips jerking upwards to his pleasure. He did it again, scraping his teeth lightly against the fabric and listening as she moaned and encouraged him in Vulcan. “Spohk, please, allow this one to undress.”

Hearing the words fall from her lips in his native tongue, Spock had to restrain himself from tearing her underwear off and dragging his tongue between her folds. “This one prefers the honor of undressing you.”

Gathering some sense of his control, which was far from perfect in that moment, he pushed himself upright and pulled her into a sitting position. He dragged her dress off over her head and threw it somewhere across the room, his eyes scanning her body as she sat, nearly naked before him. Her bra and underwear kept her breasts and folds hidden from him, but without her dress in the way, he could now gaze at her lean, fit body to his content.

A growl escaped his throat as his eyes swept across the expanse of taut skin and muscle now visible to him. The urge to nip and lick at each centimeter of skin visible to his eyes was strong, but he forced it down and settled for kissing her as his fingers began to stroke along her shoulders. They traced her clavicles and slid down to her breasts, stroking and kneading the mounds of flesh through the fabric of her bra. The skin on skin contact was comfortable, but it wasn’t enough. Every pass of his fingers over her skin allowed him to catch a hint of her underlying emotions and he wanted more. He wanted to meld with her. He could not though, not without her consent.

He settled for the next best thing he could think of in that moment. His fingers slid beneath her underwear as he returned to kissing her in the human fashion, slipping between her damp folds. Her skin was warm and wet against his fingers and he felt his desire for her intensify. She arched against his fingers in response, moaning into his mouth and digging her fingers into his hair. The faint pain of her pulling at his hair made him harder. With a growl, he slipped a finger inside her body, finding her slick and warm. He wanted to bury himself inside her now, immediately, but he desired the opportunity to watch her fall apart first all the more. He settled for slipping a second finger inside her, enjoying the tight press of her walls around his digits.

His free hand tugged at her bra, following the fabric around her body until he located the clasp. It slid apart with ease. The obstructive cloth was on the floor somewhere a moment later. Lifting his head, he continued to stroke his fingers inside her body as his eyes roamed the newly revealed skin. His mouth went dry as his eyes traced the peaks of her breasts. Slowly, he traced one nipple with his free thumb, rubbing the pad gently across the tip and watching as it hardened at his touch.

Ny arched and moaned at the touch, which was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth replaced his thumb, sucking and nipping at first one breast, then the other. Her muscles fluttered around his fingers as she arched up against him, a hand burrowing in his hair and holding him in place. “Spohk!”

A rumble ran through his chest and she moaned beneath him. Curious, he made the same sound and this time, she moaned and arched against him. A growl escaped his throat and he twisted his fingers inside her. The muscles around his fingers fluttered and clenched. 

He repeated the motion, returning to her breasts until she was writhing under him.

“Spohk, please,” gasped Ny as she arched up against him in a clear bid to get closer.

He released her breast in response, kissing her once more as his other hand slipped down stroke her clit. “Come for this one.”

She did two strokes later, her body clenching around his fingers as liquid flowed over his palm. He slowed his strokes until her body ceased to grip at him, relaxing beneath him. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he withdrew his fingers, drawing his hardened lok against her body.

“Spohk, please,” murmured Ny as she dragged his mouth back to hers.

“What do you ask of this one?” countered Spock, pressing against her. The heat and moisture beckoned him to drive into her, but he resisted. He wanted her to say exactly what she wanted.

“Fuck me,” stated Ny, the crude language exciting him in ways he didn’t realize it could. “Put your lok inside me and fuck me.”

He didn’t need a further invitation. Grabbing his lok, he lined himself up and slid into her. Immediately, her body arched up to meet him, burying him completely inside her. The first thing he registered was how tight she was. Her body gripped his so tight that he thought he might unravel the moment he was inside her. 

For a moment, he focused on regaining some semblance of control even as Ny writhed beneath him and begged him to move. Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to slide in and out of her. Every withdrawal nearly made him shiver as he was forced to leave her warm body, only to thrust back into her welcoming heat. His head spun as she urged him on, whispering words in a mix of Vulcan and Standard in his ear that could only qualify as dirty. Descriptions of what it felt like to have him buried deep inside her, exclamations of how good he felt, and encouragement to move faster and harder flooded his ears. Coupled with the arousal and desire he picked up from her skin, he felt like he would combust at any second.

With a growl, his hips shuttered forward one last time and he buried himself as deep as he could. Her body gripped his tightly as she came again, her warm fluids surrounding his lok. The desire to bite her reared up, but he restrained himself, pacifying the desire with a light bite and suck of the skin at the base of her throat instead.

As his respiration and heart rate returned to normal, Spock extracted himself from her body despite his desire to remain seated inside her for as long as possible. An unhappy whimper escaped her at his withdrawal, but she seemed content to roll into his arms as soon as he settled beside her. He didn't argue against the action either, just curled his arms around her and dragged her close. From his shipmates’ conversations, he had determined that a ‘ one night stand’ generally left immediately after intimate relations had ceased, but he found he did not despite separation at present. Perhaps his inebriated state had imposed some social need on him? Regardless, he was gratified when she did not show any indication of leaving.

Content, he settled with his arms around Ny and allowed how's mind to drift to sleep as she did the same beside him.  
\------------------- 

Pain shot through Spock’s head as he slowly regained consciousness. His mouth felt dry and his eyes were difficult to open. Everything in the small room seemed too bright and too loud. What had happened the previous night?

Sitting up slowly and forcing his eyes open, he noted the room appeared to be in perfect order, but something was nagging at him. Something had happened last night, but he couldn’t recall what it was and that, more than anything, disturbed him. A lurch in his stomach had him out of his bed and in the bathroom before he could further analyze the situation. Once his stomach was relieved of some of its contents, he had to admit that he felt a little better. Not much, but a little. What had happened? He recalled his shipmate bringing him a warm drink in a glass that had been most satisfactory, but he could not recall much past about twenty minutes from there.

Forcefully, he dragged himself off the floor of his bathroom and back into his bedroom, pausing to open a window in order to eliminate the scent of his sickness from the space. The air outside was drafty and unpleasantly cold, but that was preferable to the scent of his own vomit. He knew that scent could trigger another bout of nausea and sickness if he didn’t dispel it, something he did not wish to experience.

Disregarding all sense of dignity, he allowed himself to flop heavily on the made up side of the bed and pressed his aching head into the pillow. That was when he caught it again- that sense that something was off.

It took him a moment to realize it was a foreign scent- light, clean, and slightly floral… no, two scents. The second blended with the first and was heavier, almost musky. His brow furrowed as he considered the foreign scents, but his brain was too tired to care much in that moment. He allowed both scents to aid him in drifting back to sleep, offering him a surprising amount of comfort given he had no clue where either one had come from. 

When he awoke for a second time, he found his condition slightly improved. His head still pounded and his jaw ached from clenching against the chill that had settled in the room, but he was no longer nauseous.

Sniffing, he noted no hint of his earlier sickness. He also noticed that what he thought he'd smelled earlier appeared to be gone as well. Likely, his mind had simply misinterpreted some lingering scent of soap on the sheets which the open window had dispelled. He slid from his borrowed bed without giving the scent a further thought and pulled the window shut on his way to the bathroom.

He dismissed any and all considerations of that night from his mind, other than to note he was never drinking a chocolate infused beverage again. It was why he hardly noticed two years later when he stepped into his graduate teaching class and caught a hint of that same scent. And it was why he couldn't determine the reason for the strange looks the beautiful woman, Cadet Uhura, kept giving him throughout her first day of that class.


End file.
